


memento mori

by rickstheraven



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Crime fic, F/M, Read at Your Own Risk, back at it again with the angst haha, except with deaths, possible epic escapade, relentless cruel chase, yes ofc angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickstheraven/pseuds/rickstheraven
Summary: 4 years after the fateful night showered by heavy rain finds Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge in New York, living on opposites sides of Manhattan and enrolled in their respective universities.Despite being separated by a distance of 22 minutes, they were inseparable. They were a couple written in the Book of Fate, and nobody was going to tell them otherwise.But fate isn’t a child’s story, when a figure from their past, dark and forbidding, won’t leave them alone like they left it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys new fic here! I’ll try to update every week, that is every Sunday, which could be Saturday for some of you, depends. I suck at managing time, and life gets in the way every now and then since I’m also starting uni tomorrow so don’t keep your hopes up hahaa.  
> Song at the beginning was Emerald by RINI and of, Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day (I wrote a one shot based on the song, here’s that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881460/chapters/37043820#workskin  
> If you want to talk about the fic, Varchie, or anything in general, you can find me on tumblr @rickstheraven (previously theravenhairedprince)  
> Don’t forget to leave a comment or a review, it'll be very much appreciated and I want to know what you guys think!  
> See you soon!  
> 

_He rests his chin on her wet head as he embraced her in the rain that was pouring on them relentlessly. He knows she was crying, the hot tears a stark contrast to the skin of his neck with all the cold enveloping them._

_“I’m never letting you go again, Ronnie,” he whispers in the chaotic night._

_Her lips move against his neck, and he barely hears anything. But he knows what she said._

_He knows._

* * *

 

 

_She knows I’ll keep it forever_

**4 years later**

Archie’s awake before he knows it, but he doesn’t want to open his eyes yet. It was still dark, he’s aware, probably 5 am with the streets outside his apartment still quiet and sleeping. Cornelia is always quiet at 5 am, and that’s the thing he likes about it. He continues to sleep half-awake until the first alarm set on his phone rings, which he fumbles for to close and then rolls over the other side to get some more sleep. Slipping in and out of consciousness would be the more appropriate term, because that’s what exactly he’s doing. He can’t go back to sleep once he’s awake, or maybe he doesn’t really try because he had to learn the hard way by setting only one alarm and asking for five more minutes after shutting it down. 5 minutes turned into an hour and he missed one of the most important tests of the year. Perks of being a university student, he says unconsciously to himself.

The second alarm rings and he groans loudly, hitting the off button ferociously but clumsily, causing him to endure “Wake Me Up When September Ends” in a May morning longer than normal. He sighs heavily, setting down his phone blindly which falls to the floor, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up either. Turning upwards, he stares blankly at the white ceiling adorned with black fan that was spinning. He does his usual stuff, blinking rapidly at the fan, hoping to catch it still. But even after 2 years of blinking at it, he never seemed to be able to do so (it’s eye exercise, as he explained it to Reggie). Hoping that he could somehow slip back to the Dark Dimension to sleep (Where’s Tyrone when you need him?), his phone buzzes a third time. But it wasn’t an alarm, or a call. It was a message with a tone he set for only one person.

The melatonin exits his brain effectively and the blur clouding his vision evaporates as he turns around so fast he’s sure he’s cracked a backbone picking up the phone. The sudden brightness of his phone screen doesn’t obliterates his eyes either, he’s kind of possessed with an unnatural energy that rid the fatigue off his muscles as well.

 **Veronica:** _Good morning, Archiekins <3_

He feels his giddy smile grow on his face as he types a reply quickly, _Morning, babe. Sleep well?_

She texts back, _Not really well. Guess Ernie needs some recharge ;)_

_Oh, yeah, sure. Want me to come over?_

_I’ll confirm this afternoon, babe. Be busy the whole morning._

_Sure, hope to see you soon <3_

He sets the phone down, the smile on his face growing as he recounts last week. He and Veronica had spent their weekend shopping (mainly her, he was just carrying the bags) until a claw machine with a seriously cute teddy bear caught Veronica’s eyes. He remembers her big doe pleading eyes, like orbs of stars, and how he so willingly gave into her request. And after multiple tries, coins inserted, and Veronica clawing his back in anticipation, he finally won the teddy bear. What he hadn’t expect was to take the teddy bear and give it a tight hug himself (he couldn’t resist, it was so soft) before handing it to a bright eyed Veronica. It was named right there and then, after one of Veronica’s favorite author; Ernest Hemingway. And apparently, his hug has “left something warm” in Ernie according to Veronica, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep without it as the teddy bear wouldn’t feel the same. So whenever he picks her up, he has to go up to her room and give Ernie a tight hug before leaving. Sounds dorky and all, but it’s everything he’d do to keep her happy.

Veronica would be getting ready for her classes and so should he as well, as he has one at 7:30, so he gets up, stretches twice before heading to take a shower. He was in NYU now, studying in the business school with music as his minor, and living in a small apartment outside campus that he manages to pay for with the help of Veronica and by taking some part time jobs. 22 minutes away was Veronica probably walking around in her studio apartment near Columbia University, thanks to her mother still sending her for law school. They were close to each other, not as close as they were back in Riverdale, but it’s more than they could ever ask for after the idea of finding an apartment to move in together.

He turns the water warm to let his muscles sooth and expand like usual. Once the water was starting to feel cold, he gets out of the shower, brushes his teeth and observes himself in the mirror, hair still dripping wet like usual (he sometimes smirks at himself, it’s a habit he can’t really deny). Drying his hair with a towel one handed and dresses clumsily with the other as usual, he ambles about the small bedroom and once he’s done in his tracksuit, he heads out to the smaller living room with his phone and headphones in his hand, ready for a morning run. He stops and looks, like every time, at the frame on his shoe cabinet. Struggling to put on his now tight Nikes, he stares at the picture adorned in the plain wooden frame. It was a picture taken in the rain. A dark red headed boy’s rain soaked back was to the camera, and he can make out a raven haired head buried somewhere near the crook of the red head’s neck, her arms wrapped around his waist. Around the edges of the photo were blurry green and red lights that almost could be taken for colored fogs.

To others, it may seem a random photo of two people hugging in the rain, with all the aesthetic colors and effects that could be fair well with a couple of 10000 plus notes on Tumblr. But to him, or more specifically to _them_ (as in him and Veronica), it was a moment. A moment that two broken souls merged as one and promised not to part. A moment that two frayed hearts managed to beat simultaneously. A moment that started the content path leading to this day. A moment that Jughead had managed to capture despite the poor visibility and the heavy rain. A moment polished into a frame and given to them by Jughead that made Veronica cry and him to hug his brother for a really long time. It was like the saying, “A picture says a thousand words”, and he would’ve wanted to add “a thousand feelings” in the saying as well, because that’s what he feels right now, coursing through his bloodstream under the same skin the rain fell on.

A wistful smile he feels on his face as he exits his apartment and locks the door, checking it twice as usual. He says good morning to Mrs. Lopez on the second floor, who was tending to her pot plants, and he pets the resident cat named Lucas on his way out of the building. He meows and Archie meows back, a promise to bring him treats later in the evening. He gets out just as the sun appears over the end of Cornelia Street, and it was already awake and bustling with sleepy locals honking cars and active tourists that somehow stumbled into such an area.

The sky was clear and bright shade of forget me not, wisps of clouds splattered over the atmosphere like spilled paint. The forecast says it won’t rain for days, and he’s happy as he dodges the pile of garbage bags littered in front of the abandoned convenient store, scrolling through all of his Spotify playlist, trying to find a perfect one for running. He rounds the corner, crosses the intersection into West 4th Ave, and starts jogging lightly. In the distant was a building in sight labelled with NYU flags, and that was where Veronica would’ve been, NYU School of Law. But Columbia offered her a place, and there was no way she could reject such a great opportunity. And maybe his dream of them living together had crumbled, but Veronica was happy where she was and they visit each other every time as much as possible. It was already more than he could ever ask for, and he thanks God for that. He jogs into Washington Square Park, which was already full of early morning joggers as well. He puts on his headphones, pressing play and starts to run around the park until the playlist he selected was over (about an hour almost).

His t-shirt soaking with sweat, he runs into 7-Eleven (blessing the air conditioning) and grabs a cold water bottle, and a small can of tuna for Lucas before hurrying back into his apartment for a real shower. He also needs a quick bite, so he buys two hot-dogs from Papaya Dog just at the intersection he crossed about an hour ago. Lucas jumps from the washing machine he was perched on and greets him greedily as he comes into the apartment, clawing at the Papaya Dog bag

“Calm down, Lucas,” Archie coos, holding his hot dogs high out of reach, “That’s my hot dogs, but you can have the tuna.”

He bends over and fetches the food tray the owner keeps under the cabinet for everyone to feed the cat if they wanted. Snapping open the tuna can, he pours the content and pushes the plate to Lucas, but sighs because the cat never cares for the actual food people bring him, but the food that doesn’t belong to him.

“Exchange is not an option, Lucas,” he says absent-mindedly.

 _Meow_. Lucas looks at him with his big brown eyes.

He chuckles, “Oh, no, don’t give me those eyes. Take the tuna.” And with that Archie picks up his hot dogs and heads upstairs, leaving Lucas to his tuna, which he’ll eventually eat. Throwing the bag at the rickety coffee table set in front of the sofa as he gets into his apartment, he heads in for an actual shower in which he scrubs himself clean. Once he’s done, smelling of Head & Shoulders and Veronica’s strawberry shower gel she’s left for already a month (“I’m too lazy to carry all my products here every time I come, so I’ll leave them here”), he devours the hot dogs clean and dresses himself for his 7:30 class. He brushes his teeth again and pops an Ice Breakers into his mouth when he gets a text message from Jughead.

_Will come into NYU today._

Archie closes the text messaging app and calls him instead, because Jughead never was accurate and pinpoint with his texts.

“Hello,” Jughead answers after the sixth ring, extending the “o”.

“Hey, man. You’re coming in today?”

“Yeah.”

“What time?”

“Today.”

“Give me a time.”

“No later than today.”

“God damn it, Jug –”

“Chill, I’m just messing with you,” he laughs, “Probably somewhere around noon.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Archie remarks, checking his timetable that was pinned on the door, “I have a break before my music class at 1.”

“Yeah, see you at Wendy’s.”

“No, McDonald’s is closer to Stern.”

“Broken ice cream machine and frozen beef, yuck!” Jughead shouts mockingly on the phone, “By the way, Wendy’s is closer to Waverly, which is where you have to go afterwards.”

Archie chuckles, defeated, “Oh, yeah. Wendy’s then.”

He hangs up the call, cutting Jughead’s mocking laugh and exits the apartment, locking the door and checking twice as usual. Mrs. Lopez plants were ripe and green now that she’s watered and pruned them. He finds Lucas sleeping next to the empty tray as he comes down the stairs.

“See, the tuna wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He gets a purr in reply.

 

Cornelia was now full of NYU students walking about here and there. He sees Valerie, his music class friend, who waves at him on her bike, and he waves back. He makes his way to Stern, which was just past the law school and set right at the end of Washington Park. Stern was crowded with bed hair students as usual as he reached the school a song later.

The rest of the day passes like every day. He continued to slip out of consciousness occasionally during his first classes, and checks the clock every now, despite trying to be attentive in his substantial business class. He had a break at 10, so he plays a casual game of basketball at Mercer with a couple of his friends and some free students, then proceeds to the computing data lecture half an hour later. He doesn’t fall asleep, though, the game had woken him up pretty well, and so he takes note attentively (which he never did back in Riverdale High. He relied on Betty’s note).

 

Two hours of complex numbers and algorithms later, he walks along W 3rd, then rounds into Broadway, the famous long “ass” road quoted by Jughead, which he later finds munching a burger in Wendy’s.

His beanie-cladded head jerks up when Archie pushes the door open, the clinging bell reminding him wistfully of Pop’s.

“Get me one more of these,” is all he says as Archie approaches him, raising a half-finished cheese-dripping burger

Archie laughs and heads for the counter, “What do you call those?”

“Dave’s Double,” Jughead replies after consulting the receipt with his burger free hand.

“Hey, Will,” Archie greets the curly haired boy behind the counter once his turn arrives. Nick was Archie’s friend in his music class, playing the keyboard like Val.

“Hey, Arch. Will see you soon?” he greets back.

“Yeah, man. I’ll have two Dave’s Doubles, meal, please.”

“Sure,” Nick says, jotting down on the screen and says as Archie reaches for his wallet, “Oh, keep the money, it’s on the house.”

“You can do that?” Archie asks, puzzled.

Nick shrugs bashfully, “Haha, no. I’ll pay from my pocket.”

“Oh, no, man, you’ll give me a treat next time,” Archie quips, quickly stuffing the money into Nick’s hand.

“I can only afford Wendy’s though,” Nick protests, but he was laughing.

“Aye, I heard about that new Italian place down in…,” Archie mocks.

“Shut up, man,” Nick chuckles, handing him the receipt.

“See you, dude,” Archie gives him a fist bump and heads to the other side to take his order. A minute later, he carries a tray of two big burgers, two large sized fries, and two tall glass of soft drink, and sets it down in front of Jughead.

“Wow, you got an extra one for me as well,” Jughead says, feigning interest in the burger that was now in Archie’s hands.

“How many have you had?” Archie asks as he unwraps his burger.

“Three, not counting this new one,” he answers, and munches the burger without another word.

Archie chokes on his drink, “Man, where do all the food go?”

“My hyper-active brain,” Jughead answers through a mouthful, accidently spitting on Archie’s face, “Sorry.”

“You never lose an appetite, do you?” Archie notes, wiping the cabbage off his right cheek, and then starts on his burger as well.

“You know,” Jughead says, making a non-committal jerk of his head while he squeezes mayonnaise on an empty tray for both of them, “So how was today?”

Archie shrugs as he dips his fries, “Like every day. Nothing much, except I saw a teacher that looks exactly like Alice Cooper back at Stern.”

“Dude, holy shit,” Jughead mutters, “Did she shout at you for being irresponsibly unpunctual?”

Archie laughs, “She _isn’t_ Alice, and plus, she doesn’t teach me. Anyways, how’s Riverdale?”

Jughead’s face turns solemn at his words, and Archie’s hand freezes with the burger on the way to his mouth.

“What happened, bro?” he asks cautiously.

Jughead doesn’t answer straight away and continues to munch on his burger. Archie lets him and once he’s finished, he still remains silent and eyes Archie’s burger hungrily.

“Dude, no, I’m not giving you mine,” Archie tells him, moving the burger out of Jughead’s line of sight like as if he could eat it by just staring at it.

Jughead sighs heavily and drinks his Coke, “Kowalski’s on a rise again.”

“Who?”

“The dude that was terrorizing your girlfriend’s father 4 years ago,” Jughead reminds him boringly.

“Oh,” Archie says, suddenly remembering well, “What do you mean he’s on the rise?”

“Means that he’s making a comeback. If you’d bother reading the news, drug trafficking has increased by 4% in Manhattan itself. An overall 7% in the whole of New York. And it’s also affecting the small towns neighboring it.”

“Why small towns, though?”

“Storage spaces,” Jughead explains, waving a mayonnaise covered fry around, “Riverdale has many empty warehouses that used to be used for maple syrup shipment, but since the fiasco of the Blossoms, they’ve been decommissioned. So now they’re a hot spot for drug exchange. Polices don’t bother about those areas much as well.”

“So, are the Southside Serpents being used?” Archie asks, because that’s what happened last time as Veronica explained it to him.

“No, but we’re caught in the rift fire,” Jughead says dejectedly, “It’s hard managing a gang that wants to go full out with the Ghoulies while completing multiple projects for my creative classes.

Archie shakes his head, setting down his half-finished burger, “Man, is there anything I can do?”

“Buy me more burgers,” Jughead jokes, “No, I’m kidding, but I won’t say no though.”

“What about FP? Why doesn’t he help you?”

“He’s an old man who needs rest,” Jughead remarks, playing with his last fry. There was a slight bitter tone in his voice, Archie notices.

“Damn, man.”

They fall into silence, both of them absorbed in their thoughts. Archie finishes his burger and Jughead steals his fries, which he doesn’t object.

Jughead says after a while, “It sucks.”

“What?”

“Everything, man. This gang stuff, I wish I never joined. I just wanted to help my dad, and so did I. Though I’d get out soon, and now I’m stuck with this responsibility for the rest of my life,” Jughead says bitterly.

He continues bitterly, “I always wanted to go NYU. Dreamed of joining the writing group here and everything. Had to go to Riverdale Central instead, so I’d be close to the Serpents. Bunch of idiots from the north and the south that they can’t seem to string two words together in creative classes instead.”

Archie remains silent and listens attentively as Jughead continues to rant, “And it sucks. It sucks that I think of wanting to leave them. I’ve grown fond of all of them, even Tall Boy. And they’re family, they’ve helped me out of incredibly tight spots. So I can’t leave them.”

“Sometimes, the choices we think we made right, are also the choices we made wrong. Vice versa as well. I don’t know if it’s just the 21 year old me complaining about the choices I’ve made when I was 16 but this sucks. It sucks that I’m here ranting about stuff that’s completely none of your business. It sucks that I can only see Betty during weekends because she’s so far away studying in Boston, like far away only because I couldn’t follow her due to this stupid oath I’ve taken 5 years ago,” he finishes, setting down the empty cup of Coke angrily.

Archie doesn’t know what to make of the situation, but comforting a person who seemed to be struggling is always the first thing to do, his father had taught, so he says, “Hey, man. It sucks, so far I’ve heard. But you’ll be alright, man. I know you will. You’re strong, and as you said, they’re also family. And so am I. I’ll be there if you ever need me.”

“Is this the part where I cry from your beautiful speech, because if I need to, I’d want some water for the fake tears,” Jughead says, his voice quivering with laughter but his eyes were bright.

“Shut up, dude,” Archie says, throwing a fry at him, “Veronica is the one for beautiful speeches.”

“Speaking about Veronica, your dad says he misses her more than he misses you,” Jughead tells him.

Archie shrugs, “Perks of having a beautiful girlfriend.”

“Riverdale misses its red head and raven haired couple, man. Pop’s always asks about you both every time.”

“We’ll visit, bro. It’s just that our schedule has been so busy, and times that we’re free we spend them together.”

“You can spend them together sometimes back in Riverdale.”

“Yeah, sure. You know what, we’ll come when Betty’s free as well. So it’ll be a core four reunion, eh? How’s that sound?” Archie says, trying to light up Jughead’s mood.

“That sounds great, man. Will ask Betty if she’s free any coming day,” Jughead agrees.

Nick comes around from the counter, clearly his shift being finished, “I’m going back to get rid of the patty smell before going to music class. Or else Val wouldn’t even look my way.”

“I’d look at you and even follow you to anywhere, my dude,” Jughead quips, winking at Nick, who laughs but frowns weirdly as he exits the restaurant.

“How to chase people away 101,” Jughead tells Archie, who was laughing uncontrollably.

Archie asks once his laughter subsides, “How long are you staying here?”

“Not long. Probably as soon as you go for your class. I have stuff to do.”

“Oh, man, I would’ve invited you to come along with Ronnie tonight,” Archie sighs.

He laughs in reply, “To help you carry her designer bags. No thanks.”

They fall into silence again, and Archie checks the time on his wrist watch. It was already 12:49, and he has his music classes at 1.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Jughead says, getting up.

“How will you go back?” Archie asks as he gets up as well.

He shrugs, “Same way as I got here. Take a taxi to Elmwood Park, it’s where I parked my motorcycle. After it’s a breeze 30 minutes ride back home.”

“Okay, man. I’ll see you around, I promise,” Archie says, pulling his brother into a hug.

Jughead pats him awkwardly on the back, “Yeah, man. And you know I don’t do well with physical contact.”

“Tell that to Betty,” Archie jokes, winking at him as he exits Wendy’s. He gets a middle finger in reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Afternoon pasts too sluggishly for Archie’s liking, but he always enjoys his music class nevertheless. He has fun jamming with Val, Nick, and everyone else in the studio after 3. Maybe it was nerves telling him that Veronica hasn’t texted him yet, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. His girlfriend had a knack of losing track of time, and she wasn’t a great time manager either, so he thinks she’s still roaming around her campus for a class that’s already over or she’s probably dead asleep in bed from revising the Fifth Amendment from late last night.

He makes his way back to his apartment at 5, guitar in a suitcase slung behind his back as he strolls leisurely across Washington Park. Here and there, speckled like grain of salts, were pigeons searching for food around the Alexander Lyman monument. He sees Khalid, his computing data partner, cycling past the fountain so he calls him.

“Hey, Khalid! Going for prayer?”

His bearded friend brakes to wait for Archie, “Yeah, man. What about tonight’s plans, you still on?”

“Bowling?” Archie asks again as he runs up to him, “I don’t know, man. I might be going over to my girlfriend’s tonight.”

“Perks of having a relationship. Tomorrow, then?” Khalid says, laughing.

“Sure, bro. See you,” he nods, fist bumping his friend, who winks at him and cycles to the mosque set just right in front of the park.

 

Archie grabs some tacos from the Mexican shop ran by Mrs. Lopez’s husband down in the 4th Ave and heads back to his apartment. Lucas was nowhere to be found (he suspects Lucas has gone hunting for food), and Mrs. Lopez plants were still ripe as ever, despite having a little droop to it. After a quick shower and a bolting down of the tacos, he tries to start on a Finance assignment that was due day after tomorrow, but was distracted by his vibrating phone somewhere at 7 in the evening. Thoughts of numbers and ideas leak out of his head like someone pulled the sink blocker off as he registers Veronica’s name on his screen.

“Hey, babe,” he answers brightly.

“Hey.”

It wasn’t the lack of _babe_ or any of his many nicknames she comes up with that sends chills up his neck, trembling his veins.

It was the tone of her voice. The tone he’s last heard 4 years ago. The tone that suggests she’s genuinely scared. Impossibly vulnerable.

“Veronica, are you okay?” he asks instantly, fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah, I’m great, I’m fine, Archie,” she answers in a different tone altogether. He knows she’s rearranging her walls up, like picking up Lego pieces and reconstructing. He’s been with her for more than 4 years and he knows so well what she’s doing, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t realize he should stop asking questions about her wellbeing and give her space.

But she sounded so frail and frightened for a moment that he’s worried. He’s so worried that it hurts him. It hurts him to hear her so scared of something, and he feels incredible hatred to that something.

“Listen, babe, can I come over and crash at your place tonight? I’m not feeling so well,” she continues, her voice growing more confident with each passing words, and he knows his voice is calming her down. Just like hers does.

“Yeah, Ronnie, of course. You never had to ask,” he tells her, but he’s also wanting to ask _why_. He doesn’t.

“See you in 20,” she says softly, and he can hear the rustling indicating that she’s about to hang up.

“Wait, Ronnie!” he says quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“No, it’s okay. Smithers is here,” she tells him, the line crackling momentarily.

He sighs softly, “Yeah, okay. I love you, Ronnie.”

“I love you too, Archiekins,” she whispers, and he doesn’t know why she’d whisper.

The line cuts and he’s left with the phone still pressed to his ear as cars outside Cornelia honks and passes by.

 

20 minutes have never been more agonizing and longer to him. Word 2016 was left open on his laptop, the title “Recent advancements of Manhattan’s stock” dead center on the blank page with the cursor on the end of the line, blinking every second mockingly at him.

He checks his phone irresistibly every 2 minutes for any notification from Veronica. All he gets is another mocking empty notification tray. Standing up, he prowls around the small living room frustratingly, and after what feels like he could’ve walked the whole of his campus, his doorbell rings.

Lumbering across the room, he almost wrenches the door handle off as he pulls it open to find a disheveled looking Veronica, both hands carrying luggage.

“Woah, don’t break the door, babe,” Veronica chuckles, eyes wide staring at him. There wasn’t a trace of anything to suggest that she’s been scared. There was just tiredness in her eyes, but he knows there’s more and she wouldn’t show it just yet.

“Hey, babe,” he greets her, kissing her as he takes the bags from her hands, “What’s with all these bags?”

“I’ve taken a week off,” she explains, making her way into his apartment.

“Why?” he asks, puzzled. Veronica was never the one to miss classes, even if she was sick.

“Just, I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to find an excuse to spend time with you,” she grins guiltily.

There was something yet, something she hasn’t told him. Something that her walls were covering and he can’t see pass it. Something she’s guarding and she doesn’t want him to know yet. But he knows she’ll tell him soon. He just needed to give her time.

And he hopes soon doesn’t become too late, but as long as she’s with him, he’ll be fine. He’ll be on the outlook for any sign of outbreak from her, any indication that she’s ready to speak.

For now, he’ll do as she says.

“Have you brought Ernie?” he asks her, looking at the bags he put at the foot of his bed.

“Yeah!” she exclaims and bends down to unzip the Louis Vuitton bag, excitedly pulling out the brown teddy bear and hands it to him like an adorable 4 year old kid.

He takes Ernie and runs his finger through the fabric, and jolts as he comes across a stitch-like bump on the back of the bear. He turns around and finds a black thread woven to close a knife-sized cut.

“Veronica, why does he have a stitch?” Archie asks, his voice quivering from the fact that it _is_ a knife cut.

He looks up to see her façade falter a quarter of a second, before she looks at him confusingly, her eyes wide and bright.

“Oh, that’s an accident. I kind of wanted to stitch a-a b-bag to his back but ended up slashing it open,” Veronica explains, trying to sound nonchalant. Her voice was not convincing it otherwise.

“Right,” is all he says. Because it’s all he says as he tries to look past the lies she’s telling him. He’s trying to look beyond her walls, see past the crumbling veil she’s putting on.

He can’t read her, and all he can do is wait.

“What?” she asks him, giggling, “Give him a recharge c’mon! Then we’ll find something to watch on Netflix, I’m in no mood to go out.”

She walks past him to the tiny kitchen and sets to make popcorn, leaving him standing with the bear clutched way too tight in his hands.

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t find anything new worth watching, so Veronica, resting on his chest with his arms draped around her, decided to do a re-run of the Office, ignoring Archie’s preference for a crime and shooting series. 7 episodes in, just as Michael was about to perform as MC for his Dundies award show, she tells him she’s hungry.

“What, where did all those popcorns go?” he chuckles, pausing the episode.

She pinches him on the ribs, “Shut up, do you have anything in the fridge?”

“Nope, we can go to Palma, though,” he suggests as he rubs his ribs.

Reluctance and uneasiness flashes across her eyes, it could’ve been a trick of the eye, but Archie was fast.

“Why? You don’t want to eat outside?” he asks, the concern coming back to him.

She shakes her head and yawns, “No, it’s okay. Let’s go then.”

He gets up suddenly on purpose, making her fall to the ground cursing. He then picks her up and carries her to the bedroom, dropping her on the bed with a flump along with a shriek of laughter.

“Archiekins!” she giggles, sitting up straight and swatting him. He changes his shirt and waits for her, watching her peel off her sweater for something more fitting according to her status outside (he’s tried to convince her that it doesn’t matter and she’ll look beautiful no matter what she wears, but she never listens). She slips on a blouse and grabs her purse, beckoning him.

They take a short stroll to Palma, an Italian restaurant opened just a block away from his apartment. It was half empty, couple of late workers dining at 8, so they take a seat right next to a big pane window, the feeble street open full view for them. They share a large pepperoni pizza and a gigantic “Palma Signature” balsamic salad. She talks about everything as Archie finishes most of the pizza, down to politics and to the modern literature and to the technologies. Things that she doesn’t usually talk with him, but he honestly, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. He’s too busy eating his pizza and staring at her face. He doesn’t know how, but she gets more beautiful every time he looks, and he thinks she’s a living miracle. The way her lips move to talk animatedly. The way her eyes crinkle as she looks at him, holding the conversation with those glass-like orbs. The way her hands wave around due to her Mexican heritage as she explains things he can barely catch up with it

And he finds that he had missed her so much, despite only being week since he’s last seen her. He missed her presence, how she seemed to shift space and time when she’s around. He missed her voice that sounds like birds chirping in the early morning, he missed her lips that feels like nothing he felt in this world before. Something that can only remembered when encountered again. And she’s probably thinking along the same lines as she sets down her wine glass, lust flaring up in her eyes so bright and vivacious, it dims everything around him. Her hands brushes his knee under the table, and a devious smile grows on her face

They barely make it to his room and he’s pushing her against his apartment door. She’s lifted up and in his arms as he traces the dip of her jaw with his mouth.

“Bedroom,” she breathes against his mouth as she pulls him up to kiss him. He nods and sets her down, following her to his bedroom.

It was his turn to be pushed against the surface of the wooden door, and maybe he was sweating, he’s not sure as he slides against it a bit due to the wetness. The room smells a bit strange as well, but he doesn’t mind again, as he was too busy focusing on her lips that were pressed so hard against his he couldn’t tell whether it was a part of him or not. He moves to her jawline again, kissing and nipping, and suddenly it was over as Veronica pushes away from him with a strangled scream.

“Hey, Ronnie, what happened?” he asks, wondering if he’s done something wrong. The wet feeling behind his back was starting to feel more prominent.

She doesn’t answer him, but something boils violently in him as he looks at her pale face, hidden by most of her hands that were covering her mouth.

Her eyes were more than enough to tell. They were wide, but there was no brightness. No crinkling. Just dark and void filled with fear. Fear.

Fear is what he feels. His hands shiver uncontrollably. His stomach quivers. It doesn’t feel like sweat no, it was something sticky and cold against his shirt, he feels.

He pulls away from the door and turns shakily to look behind him.

Scrawled in red blood paint, or it might’ve been blood itself, against the cream walls of his bedroom and door was a message. He can’t tell the difference through the nausea rising in him. His back has ruined most of the message, but it was still clear enough to make out the still dripping words, staining his blue carpet into a dark shade.

 

YOU HAVE NOWHERE TO HIDE

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_All these street lights, glowing_

_Happened to be moments, passing_

****

**Two days ago.**

“Yeah, he’s alright! I can still feel you!” she giggles, hugging Ernie tight in her arms to show Archie, who she was in a FaceTime call with.

He chuckles, “So no need for a recharge?”

“No! Maybe?” she shrugs, smirking at him, “You can come if you’d want.”

He shakes his head, “I have an assignment due tomorrow, babe.”

“I’d help you finish it here,” she suggest, raising her eyebrows deviously.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll just end up fucking up the assignment, and you as well,” he says boldly, causing her to faux gasp.

She tells him as she covers her mouth, “Bold of you to assume that I’d be interested in participating with your bed activities.”

“Assuming? I’m just stating facts straight off Veronicapedia here,” he winks at her.

She laughs, feeling her face burn, “Well, it’s authentic enough.” She hears a knock and startles, thinking it was her own apartment, but Archie looks up from the camera.

“That’s probably Nick knocking on my door,” Archie grimaces, and she knows he clearly doesn’t wants to hang up.

“Hey, hey,” she says, trying to assure him, “Go enjoy your night, babe. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?” he asks her, teasing her with a half smirk.

She giggles, “Yes! I’ll be seeing you in the weekend anyways!”

“That’s true,” he says, eyebrows drawn up in remembering, “Okay. Bye, Ronnie.”

“Bye, Archiekins,” she replies, the warm feeling coursing through her veins every time he utters the specific syllables.

The call cuts and her screen turns black momentarily. She sees her smile fade in the dark reflection the same time her heart drops, before the FaceTime app appears again, bright and clear.

Dropping her phone dejectedly on one side of her bed, she rolls to other and stares blankly at her opened wardrobe. Her wide assortment of clothes were color coordinated, and it was just her thing to go and arrange Archie’s clothes the same way one day she went over.

Speaking of Archie, she rolls to the other side to face her white pristine bathroom, knocking Ernie to the floor, she already misses him. It might be an overstatement since it’s just been a couple of seconds she last saw him, but she misses him a lot. So much that she’s willing to take a taxi to NYU at 8 pm to see him. So much that she’s willing to miss class tomorrow so she’d be able to sleep in late with him having his arms around her. So much that, and if she could, she would close the space between them, obliterating any unnecessary distance keeping them apart.

She doesn’t realized she fell asleep thinking about the ways she could get closer to Archie, but she did when she wakes up to her loud alarm the next morning. Closing off the alarm, she turns around and nearly feels herself fade from the bright glare of the sunlight streaming into her room.

It seems she’s forgotten to close her shutters last night. “Fuck,” she groans, pulling up her sheets to cover her face. She struggles with them as she was sleeping on it, so she endured more intake of vitamin Ds than required.

Somehow pulling way too hard, she falls from her bed cursing the unnecessary power she used. She gets up, huffing and stomps to her bathroom for a shower. She steps on her big teddy bear and nearly bangs her head on the bedside cabinet, but she can’t curse Ernie, so she curses herself instead. The events followed were like dominoes toppling, she forgot to turn on the heater the shower, so she was attacked by the cold water that spills without warning from the faucet, causing her to skip in her shower, shouting a silent scream (curse words worthy of Hell’s Kitchen, Spanish version) along with her skin. Fumbling with the water temperature controller, she turns it to warm and sighs heavily as the warm water soothes and tickles her cramped muscles.

10 minutes later finds her blow drying her hair as she ambles around. She tries to dress herself carefully, but ends up stuck on a decision between her Audi leather jacket and her Gucci coat for 20 minutes. In the end, she puts on a pencil skirt and a black Armani sweater to go. She picks up her phone from the spot she left last night after she’s done with her makeup, and unlocks it to see a notification from _Archiekins_.

A selfie greets her eyes as she opens the messaging app. It was sent a bit over an hour ago, and there was Archie, smiling wide and holding a cup of coffee in his hands. _Archy_ was written on the cup and she feels the laughter bubbles inside her as she reads the caption that came along with the picture.

_That’s how you spell my name correctly._

_Guess Archiekins is gonna be replaced_ , she types back. Biting on her lower lip as she waits for a reply that comes 2 seconds afterwards.

_Haha, funny. And look who’s awake so early despite not having a night out._

She feels a smile grow on her face as she types a reply quickly, _I feel asleep thinking about you, probably dreamt about you as well_

A bubble appears followed by his text a second later, _Aww babe <3_

 _That’s why I couldn’t wake up, such a restraining nightmare,_ she smirks as she presses send.

 _Oh, nice try_ , he texts back and quickly follows with one more, _I have to go, Darth Maul is looking at me weird._

Darth Maul was actually Professor Maul of his Finance Class, but he earned the nickname because his face turns red due to the heat and the frustration of un-cooperating students every now and then, according to Archie.

  _Finance class? May the force be with you,_ she writes back, hoping to cheer him up with a Star Wars reference he so loves.

 _May the force be with you too_ , he texts back.

Honestly, it could’ve been their new way of saying ‘I love you’ and she wouldn’t mind.

Sighing, she makes her way out of her bedroom and grabs her handbag. She locks her apartment door, swiping the keycard on the pad. A piece of paper flutters to the floor right beside her Louboutin, unnoticed at first. As she turns to head for the elevator down the corridor, she steps on the paper and nearly slips. Cursing a string of incoherent words as she grabs her door handle to upright herself, she grabs the paper from the floor with her other hand and flattens the slip. It seemed to be torn from a newspaper, she can tell from today’s date printed on the corner of the crumbled paper. She turns around and finds a hand scrawled writing.

GeT OUt

Her stomach contracts as she frowns at the message. For a fleeting moment, she feels fear, but it disappears quick as the thought of the message being a potential threat evaporates from her mind. She then remembers the harsh lined face of a woman, Josephine Margareta, who lives two floors down her, harbors a general hate for the Lodge Industries.

According to her mother, Josephine used to be personal secretary for her father, but was fired due to the acclaims made by other employees of her loud boastful mouth that cost the industry an investigation and a fine of $900,000 for evading tax maneuvers back in 2015. Josephine thought it was all unfair, according to her mindset, so she applied for the Saint Claire’s co, Lodge’s rival industry, hoping to take down the Lodge Industries by spilling secrets and her feeble attempts at puncturing the market share. Fortunately, she failed even after multiple tries and her hate for the industry continued to grow unchecked. Adding to the burning fire like fuel was Veronica moving into the same building and Josephine’s priority as the top customer in the Enclave was replaced with a Lodge.

Sighing heavily, she crumples the piece of paper and throws it into the garage can beside her room. _Lodge women don’t stand down easily, mija_. But she’s tired of being a Lodge woman, despite her mother’s words. She’s tired of picking up fights. She’s tired of picking up business she wasn’t meant to meddle with. Josephine can send her all the hate and threats she wants, but she isn’t going to budge one bit. She isn’t going to feed the bait and snap because she’s sure the French lady would cook up a headline the next day saying “Disgraced daughter of Hiram Lodge attacks poor lady working in rival company”. So she pushes everything out of her mind by focusing on the abstract paintings on either side of the corridor walls as she heads for the elevator.

Mr. Oksana, the manager here, said these were at least worth a million each. Jokes on him, Veronica had a Columbia art historian friend, Harmony. After a quick observation of the paintings on her floor one night, Harmony stated that these were third-class replicas, and could literally be found on E-Bay for 40 dollars. But Veronica wasn’t going to complain, she was lucky enough to get herself a room at Enclave, quite an expensive chain (her mother was able to afford) from the Brodsky (the same one Archie stays in). The top 5 floors of the Enclave, about 20 rooms each floor, were apartments, while the rest of the weirdly designed building is occupied by an art gallery, which explains the abundance of painting frames hanging here and there.

The lift stops at 4th floor and Mrs. Anita walks in, Oksana’s manager. The old woman smiles at Veronica and mutters a quiet _good morning_ which she barely hears. She smiles back awkwardly as she was just laughing mentally at her boss.

The bell dings and the door slides open to the ground floor. Putting on her shade as she walks out of the elevator on the ground floor, she sees Oksana (whom Mrs. Anita has trotted to) and a couple of business men talking around a wall sized painting of Insula Dulcamara, nicknamed “Klee’s Derp” by Archie. The painted head within a landscape that’s supposed to be Ogygia is considered an idol of Greek mythology by Klee, the painter himself, but to her boyfriend’s eyes, it was a predecessor of Derp, hence: Klee’s Derp, or the 1938 equivalent of Derp. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if Archie is secretly studying meme-ology as his second minor.

Amsterdam Ave, as always, is busy as she walks along the cobbling noisy street. St. John’s cathedral was set next to her apartment, but she wasn’t heading its way. It was already 9 AM, and there was a mild traffic along the avenue as she picks her pace to the law school. Patients and families litters the entrance of St. Luke’s hospital, and she had to dodge a troubled looking old man who asked her whether she was his granddaughter. The old man, two seconds later, was apprehended by two panting nurses and lead back into the hospital.

“Hey, did you see that weird old man at St Luke’s?” was Harmony greeting her 5 minutes later in front of Nous Espresso in the Philosophy Hall right across Law School.

Veronica nods as she takes the double espresso her blonde friend offers her, “Yeah, the nurses found him two seconds after I passed him.”

“Wow, psychic powers you got?” Harmony replies sarcastically, wiggling her eyebrows.

She raises her eyebrows as she takes a sip of her caffeine morning dose, “I think that should’ve been you. Your hair state qualifies for you having psychic powers, honestly. Oh, and for you to be admitted into an asylum and rival that of Einstein.”

“Einstein is dead, though,” Harmony sighs, running a hand through her unkempt hair.

“Enlighten me, baby girl,” Veronica snorts, “Give me that croissant, please.”

Harmony protests as she snatched the half eaten croissant out of her hands.

“We can share,” Veronica shrugs, stuffing the remaining carbohydrate in her mouth.

Her friend laughs, “Share and steal are not synonyms.”

“In Veronicapedia, they are,” she remarks, oddly revisiting Archie’s words last night.

They roam around the building aimlessly as Veronica waits for her 9:30 Environmental Law class, while Harmony has a break and was waiting for Visual Effects lecture an hour from now.

“So, I got a hate message from Josephine this morning,” Veronica says like as if it was a normal occurrence.

“Oh, what did Miss Jose-Ego-phine had to say?” Harmony asks, pretending to look curious.

She answers, “Nothing except a “Get Out” written in the Spongebob mocking font.”

“Since when was that ever a font?” Harmony says, taken backed.

“Since 2017, honey. 3 years ago, and are you not going to curse Josephine on my behalf?” Veronica says, pretending to look offended.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” she replies, looking momentarily confused but looks up as she continues, “Fuck you, Josephine.”

“Well, Enclave is behind us right now, why look up?” Veronica asks, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

“I know, I’m just passing the message to God to pass it to Josephine next time she goes to church,” Harmony explains.

“Josephine isn’t Christian, though,” Veronica reminds her friend.

Harmony frowns, “Really? Her name suggests otherwise, but I guess she’s not getting the fuck you then.”

They burst out laughing at the same time, startling the janitor who was mopping the floor into thinking that was something was wrong with his mop because Harmony’s laughter sounds oddly squeaky enough to be mistaken for a wet mop sliding against a tiled floor.

“Do you really think it’s her, though?” Harmony asks after the laughter subsides.

She shrugs in reply, “Who else?”

“No idea,” her friend shrugs as well, “But honestly if that was her indeed, she really needs to get a life.”

“Tea,” Veronica agrees, raising her cup

“Uh-uh, that’s espresso. Stronger shit,” Harmony corrects her and she laughs.

“So, got any homework?” she asks nonchalantly after a while.

Veronica scoffs, “Homework? Excuse me, the term is not valid within the premises of Columbia University. We don’t have homework.”

“Well, if you say so,” she squares her shoulders, “Assignments slash projects. They sound more terrifying than homework.”

“How?” Veronica quizzes.

“Well, for starters, you miss homework, that’s not the death of you,” Harmony waves her hand around as she explains. She accidently swats a passing Chris on his head and didn’t even bother to apologize. Veronica gives him a shrug when he looks at her with a befuddled face.

“Whereas, if you miss an assignment, it’s the start of the slow death for you,” Harmony continues like as if nothing has happened, “The activation of the Black Plague like back in those dark days of Europe.”

“You’re going a bit deep,” she reminds her.

“Am I?” Harmony stops walking suddenly, sporting a questioning face, and causing Veronica to nearly crash into her blonde friend because she was just looking at her phone.

Her friend ponders a second longer before she walks on and goes on as well, unfazed by Veronica’s thrown hands, “Maybe, but my point was using the term ‘homework’ seemed to lessen the stress on many people, you know. It’s not like as if I’m reminding them of their slowly fading soul constantly.”

She stops again and this time Veronica crashes into her, dropping her thankfully empty espresso cup over her friend.

 She shoots angrily, “Hey, maybe find a seat if you’re about to go deeper so you’d stop stopping suddenly.”

“Life lessons 101,” Harmony says as she walks backward and dauntingly away from her, “Don’t look at your phone when walking.”

“Great, I’m wrong!” Veronica laughs, throwing her now free hands up.

A bell chimes, indicating it was 9:30. Harmony waves at her. Veronica flips at the blonde’s retreating back and heads for her class situated in the next building. Environmental Law lectures passes on the same as always. Professor Richard drones on about the impact of human’s tampering on the forest for hours, and nobody really listens except her and a couple of students who were keen to pass with the best marks. 2 hours later finds Veronica setting in her Criminal Law class, head still reeling from extinct plant species in Richard’s sleepy voice. This time, the class passes too fast for her liking despite being an hour longer than Environmental Law. She doesn’t mind too much, though, as she had taken enough notes and summaries, and received last week’s test with an A graded on top of the test paper at the end of the class.

Lunch flashes by without Harmony (she was in her Painting class), but she dined with a couple of friends that talk about everything a little too much, causing her head to start spinning slightly. She heads for the library during break to research on more of war deaths for her upcoming Human Rights class, which she heads for an hour later.

It was 5 by the time she exits Law School, the sky bright and clear specked with a slight orange tinge as she crosses the street towards Walmart for her favorite microwave pasta. She then strolls leisurely along Morningside Park, finding occasional couples sitting on the benches and late evening runners.

The art gallery was already closed as she reached her apartment. The spotlight for the Insula Dulcamara was left on, leaving the painting eerily glowing in the orange lit hall. She heads for the elevators and swipes her card for access. Unlocking her room with the same card, she gets in and closes the door with a snap, locks it, and throws her handbag to the couch before flopping on it all the same.

Forcing herself to get up 5 minutes later, she heads in her bedroom and closes the shutters. She peels off her sweater and skirt, discarding them in the laundry basket. As she picks up her towel from the rake, she catches a glimpse of her golden skin in the mirror, which she then turns to look at.

Her tired eyes looks back at her, dark bags under them as she observes herself. Her head tilts to one side as her eyes rake over her own reflection covered in the intricate lingerie that was Archie’s second favorite. She also takes them off, slowly unclasping the hooks until she was naked in front of the mirror. Spotting a light red mark near the apex of her right thigh, she feels a smile grow on her face as she recounts the feeling of his teeth and lips on her skin from last week. It was only two days until she sees him again, and even after 2 years of living in New York, she still can’t get rid of the anticipation and excitement when she thinks of seeing him.

An hour later, after a fresh shower, Veronica browses through Netflix for something to watch as she eats her microwaved pasta with a plastic fork on her couch, sporting the Charmander pajamas she bought due Archie’s plea about a month ago. She nearly falls asleep watching one of Archie’s favorite shooting shows (they share an account), so she closes the TV and throws away the empty pasta tray. She switches on her laptop and works on her civil rights essay late into the night, music playing softly in the background. She types until her finger cramps and her eyes itch so badly, and it was then when she gives up for the night. As she heads for bed at 10, her phone vibrates and she sees a text message from Archie.

_Will talk tomorrow, I’m tired. Goodnight <3_

She replies with a heart and honestly, she doesn’t complain because she’s tired as well.

 

* * *

 

 

Veronica wakes up the next morning even before her alarm sounded. She gets up and stretches on bed, feeling unnaturally awake at 7. She sets Ernie aside, and he feels unnatural as well. Grabbing her phone, she texts Archie a good morning and sets it down to head for shower. She barely pulled her covers off and her phone vibrates, so she picks it.

 _Good morning, babe. Sleep well?_ he replied.

She ponders on her answer as she types, _Not really well? I guess Ernie needs some recharge ;)_

 _Want me to come over?_ , he replies a second later.

‘Yes, like right now’ is what she wanted to say, but hey, she’s 21 and she’s at least a level headed, even if not always for her boyfriend. So she types and sends, _Will confirm later this afternoon, be busy the whole day._

 _Sure, hope to see you soon_ , he replies.

She bites her lower lip to stop her smile from spreading infectiously, and her heart flutters at the thought of seeing him later in the evening. Warm and content with the notion, the cold water doesn’t even bother in the shower, and it seems funny as she thinks herself of singing ‘Let it Go’.

She opens the shutters of her bedroom window to let the light stream in after she’s done dressing up. Morningside Heights was bathed in the 9 AM light of the New York blue sky, and Amsterdam Ave was clogged with pedestrians and honking cars as usual. Sliding the ceiling to floor length window open, she walks out into the small balcony supported by the gigantic pillars of the building on either side of her, and leans on the black railing as she takes in light breeze blowing along the street.

As she turns around to head back inside minute later, she spots a piece of paper lying on the floor and feels her heart drop to her yet empty stomach. She snatches the paper from the dusty floor, trying to ignore her trembling fingers as she flattens it out.

 

yOu Are beiNG WATCHeD

 

On an instinctive whim, she dashes inside and slides the window shut and locks it with a snap. She then pulls the shutters close, and slowly walks to her bed before sinking onto it.

 _1, 2, 3_ , she counts to herself, trying to slow down her breathing. Her heart was still banging violently against her chest, like a creature longing to be free of its constraints. The words in her hand suddenly feels more than words, and despite having everywhere window possible in her bedroom shut, she feels eyes on her. Invisible floating eyeballs that leaves an ominous lingering feeling on her skin, a feeling that was none too comfortable and friendly to her.

Her finger draws in and tightens, crushing the paper and she gets up with a resolve, grabbing her handbag on her way out. She shuts the door with a snap and locks angrily, almost breaking her card. Jamming the 8th floor as she entered the lift, she waits in the silent supposed-to-calm-down music, grinding her teeth furiously.

She was going to have to talk to Josephine now. She wasn't having any of the hate to bother and distract her busy and bustling life. And she's tired of it, despite having been sent only two. But it wasn’t the message, or in fact Josephine, that tires her. It was her last name, Lodge. The name that still holds fame and reputation. The name that has graced multiple scandalized newspaper headings, flashed in bold captions across gossip sites. The name that's ruined a couple of families abide Josephine’s, ones that Veronica's turned a blind eye to. It was the name that's caused her to face many troubles she could’ve avoided, hate she could’ve ignored.

And honestly, she would've given all the money in this world just to have the name taken away, just so that people won't look twice at her as she submits her forms. Just so that people won’t look taken back when she introduces herself.

The bell dings and Veronica's out before the lift door fully slides open, storming her way to room 810 at the end of the corridor, ignoring an open door on her way. She takes a deep breath to slow down the storm swirling in her mind, and rings the bell of room 810

Silence answers.

She rings the bell again. Silence.

Again. Silence.

She might as well pour out her frustration into the unlucky piece of plastic that rings the doorbell as she continued to press it forcefully.

“Clearly someone isn't home, Mrs. Lodge,” a voice behind her says.

She whips around to find Oksana poking his head out of the room that was left opened, unnoticed during her furious flight.

“Mr. Oksana,” Veronica greets, sounding suddenly guilty.

The old man laughs as he approaches her, “Oh, you don’t have to pay for any damages, Mrs. Lodge. But do refrain from damaging please.”

She doesn’t answer him but a small smile grows on her face as a reply.

“So what business do you have with Mrs. Margaret's apartment?” he asks her after a while.

“It’s --,” she stutters. She considers about telling him.

“C'mon, you can tell me any complaints,” Oksana says, like as if he read her mind.

“Well, I've received two consecutive threat notes,” she blurts, flattening the paper in her hands to show him.

The old man's eyes flashes, and maybe it was a trick of the light, Veronica's not sure as she listens to him continuing to speak, “And you have reason to believe it was Josephine?”

“You know the story between her and Lodge's industries, right?” she asks, and he nods, “And I also was able to break the queue for the top apartment before her, so.”

“So you think it's her that's finally pouring out the frustration on these little pieces of paper?” Oksana finishes for her as he observes the paper taken from her hand.

“Yes,” she nods, trying to read his reaction.

Oksana sighs and hands back the paper, “Honestly, hate messages within the same building come and go, but.”

“But what?”

“it doesn’t make sense, Mrs. Lodge. Josephine Margaret is on a holiday in Greece and will return next month,” Oksana says.

It feels like her heart has dropped out of her chest cavity as chills and goosebumps rise up her forearms.

“W-what?” she asks, appalled.

“Yes, that's why it confuses me,” Oksana shakes his head, “Where did you find this?”

“The first one was outside my room,” she recalls to him, “the second one was outside on the balcony.”

“The balcony?” Oksana deadpans, “The only to approach one's balcony is from outside the building itself or, the inside.”

“Yes,” she agrees, trying to ignore the creeping feeling on her shoulder blades.

The manager clears his throat loudly, “Mrs. Lodge, I am truly sorry such an incident has to occur to you. We take security and safety of our residents very seriously, so I promise you we'll look into this.”

“Okay, thank you,” she smiles, “I have to get to class.”

Oksana smiles at her and moves aside to let her pass. As Veronica passes the opened room, a stack of newspaper flashes before her eyes. Her blood chills and she turns around to see the old man still smiling at her, standing stock and still at where she left him.

Her fingers tremble as she presses the button for the elevator.

 

The walk to Columbia was short. Everything flashes by in a quick procession, her mind can’t keep up with its surrounding while it was stuck in its own thoughts. She bumps into people as she walks to the coffee shop in Warren Hall (she bumps into Chris as well, who drops his things in protest). She then waits for Harmony with a tall cup of mocha before realizing 10 minutes later that her friend has a class. So she gives the janitor the drink, who looks at her questioningly, on her way to her Criminal class.

Focusing on lectures has always been a good way to distract herself from the mild fights she's had with Archie two years ago. Generally a good distraction it was, but this time, it wasn’t helping.

Her mind keeps revisiting the note as the professor talks about the punishment of privacy infringement and personal threats. And it’s worse during lunch break as she decides to sit alone, the words keep flashing across her eyes so much that she has to shut it tight.

 

gEt oUt. yOU Are BeinG WATCHeD

 

She bolts to the bathroom, ignoring her half eaten salad. Locking herself in a stall, she sits on the toilet lid as she takes deep, calm breaths despite the mild urinal smell of the bathroom filling in her nostrils. She was scared, she knows. Her fingers were still trembling, if so ever slightly.

She doesn’t know what she’d do, even though Oksana said he’d take care of it. The smile at the end of the corridor and the newspaper stack freaks her out, and she wishes she wasn’t fast enough to connect dots.

Or maybe they weren’t even dots, she thinks. It could’ve been by chance, a coincidence and maybe she’s seen to many films and movies to draw out such a crazy plot.

 _This is real life_ , she mutters to herself, _the police can be involved and can help me if it gets worse._

And Archie was there as well. And Harmony.

She suddenly can’t wait to see them.

It took all her willpower to push the matter out of her mind, and she gets through the rest of the day with fingers occasionally trembling and words flashing across her mind.

It was 5 as she exits her last class, and she texts Harmony for her location. Her friend texts her back a second later, telling her she’s located in Warren.

 

5 minutes later, a sandwich in hand, she finds Harmony at their usual table in Warren Hall with a tall glass of foaming beer in her hand, frowning at her Mac, which had a Canon attached to it.

“What’s up?” she asks her friend as she takes a seat opposite her.

“Editing some photos,” she replies curtly, and that was Veronica’s cue to be silent as Harmony concentrated on her work. She quietly takes out her sandwich, and it was until she almost finishes it that Harmony finally looks up from her screen.

“You know,” Veronica interjects before Harmony could speak up, “Normally, the photographers you’d find in a cafe have a cup of coffee or tea, not a gigantic Guinness.”

Harmony laughs, “I’m not those photographers, baby. Anyways, I need your opinion,” and turns her laptop 180 so they could both see the screen. A cityscape of Harlem was displayed, and Veronica could only guess it was one of Harmony’s shots. The details were clear and vivid, the colors corrected and perfect, and the symmetry of buildings were on point that it was aesthetically pleasing to look at, “I wonder whether it’d look better on black and white, or in this sunset shade?”

She presses a key back and forth, and the picture switches between the mentioned choices. Veronica considers for a while as her friend watches her intently, trying in vain to push away the piece of paper that’s starting to flash across her eyes again.

“I think black and white for this one,” she decides a minute later, trying to control her quivering voice, “No point with the sunset since most of the buildings are in shadows.”

“I agree with you,” Harmony nods, but she frowns at her momentarily like as if she’s noticed something strange, “Always knew you had the eye for the art.”

“No way, I’m not the one studying Art in Columbia,” she shakes her head, chuckling.

Harmony shrugs as she closes the lid of her laptop, “I’m not the one dating Archie Andrews.”

“Are you hitting on my boyfriend?” she faux gasps as she forces down the laughter building up inside her. She forgets about the events of the past morning for a while.

“No, but you have to agree that he’s an _art_ ,” Harmony laughs at her reaction.

Veronica then considers her words carefully as she was about to spoil the light mood hanging around them with the news of the second threat, but her words barely escapes her lips as her friends continues.

“Oh look who’s here,” Harmony says, wetting her lips slightly and Veronica turns around to follow her eyesight.

Daniel, resident hot boy of Columbia and one of the best footballers Columbia Lions has ever had, walks in alone, a camera in his hands as he takes a seat on the other side of the shop. Despite being the hot boy and all, Daniel was in fact, very quiet and shy. He was somewhere in between the Archie Andrews to fuckboy scale (yes, her boyfriend has become a part of her measuring system), and as honest as she is, she finds Daniel cute and a good friend.

 

 _I got a second threat and it may have not been Josephine_ dies on her throat. She swallows the lump in her throat and says with a clogged humorous tone, “You _are_ not going to hit on him.”

 “Watch me,” Harmony pokes her tongue at her and get off her seat to approach the Hispanic boy who has no clue of the flurry blonde thickness that was about to hit him.

Veronica watches as her friend slides gracefully into the empty seat across Daniel, who yelps quite audibly out of surprise. A smile grows naturally on her face as she watches her friend attempt to flirt, but only slightly due to the untold story that still lingers in her, and it sucks. Because just as much as she needs to tell someone, she doesn’t to spoil the mood her friend was in. A conversation seemed to flow naturally between the both of them, and after a while, Harmony saunters back to their table.

“Well, how did it go, Marilyn Monroe?” Veronica teases her as she sits down.

Harmony sighs, “Well, I’m more of a Rebel Wilson right now.”

“Oh, what happened?” she tries to sound serious despite the slight snicker that escaped from her lips, glancing at the now leaving Daniel.

“Conversation went pretty well at first! We shared similar interests in photography, he was a newbie and I offered to help him. I don’t know then, out of the blue, he went ‘I’m not looking for a relationship right now though’. Like am I that obvious?” Harmony explains, sounding huffy, eyes following the retreating back of the boy.

“Well, honey, you were basically _leaning_ in towards him. That suggests that you’re really fucking _interested_ in him or you’re really interested in _fucking_ him from the way your tits were peeking out of that V neck,” she explains, laughing, “You had to be a mystery, you had to make him guess!”

“Shit, forgot to maintain my body expression,” Harmony laughs, looking down at her chest.

“So what happened after that?” she presses her, enjoying the conversation.

Harmony continues, “So, instead of telling him that ‘no I wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship either’, stupid me jumped out and went ‘Oh okay, can we be friends though?’ To which he said ‘yeah sure’. Like can you believe it?”

“Wow,” she snorts.

“We exchanged numbers though,” Harmony says, and Veronica whips up to see her smirking face, “I can take it further a bit later.”

“Ohhh, make him fall in love with you? Make him jealous?” Veronica asks, pointing her friend’s favorite tropes in the fan fiction she reads

Harmony shivers as she gulps down the rest of her beer, “I don’t think I’m capable of such high level performance. So what’s wrong, huh?”

“What?” Veronica asks her friend, eyes wide hoping not to give away more than she already did.

“You wanted to tell me something from the look of your face and the tone of you voice, before we were interrupted by the arrival of Daniel-let’s-be-friends,” her friend says, grimacing as she puts down her empty glass.

“Oh,” is all she manages croakily. Wheels turns furiously in her brain, and after what felt like eternity as she considers her choice, she says, “Nothing, nothing.”

“Huh,” Harmony nods suspiciously.

“Shut up, _friend_ ,” Veronica attempt a banter that succeeds.

They continue talking for the rest of day about other topics, until the sun finally set at 7 and Harmony has to go for her night time photography project. They say their goodnights and head opposite directions, Harmony trotting back to Columbia and Veronica walking back to the Enclave.

She might’ve forgotten about the threats sent in the morning partially whilst conversing about Chris Hemsworth with her friend, but it all comes back in full force as she was approached by a stranger in a suit as she entered the Enclave in its dim state.

Blood rushes through her ears and she makes a beeline for the exits but the man calls out.

“Mrs. Veronica! I’m here to talk about the complaint of the threats sent earlier this morning!”

She slows down and turns around to face the man, but her hands don’t leave the door handle.

“Who are you?” she asks with as much confidence as she can muster.

“My name is Jackson, and I’m Oksana’s nephew. Mr. Oksana could not be here, unfortunately, so he sent me instead,” he introduces himself, extending a hand.

“And what about the complaint?” she asks, ignoring the handshake offer.

His hand falls awkwardly to the side as he says, “We’ve checked the security cameras and realized there have been some cut footages.”

“Oh,” is what comes out of her lips.

“Don’t worry, the footages have been sent to NYPD and they’re currently investigating it,” Jackson assures her, “And meanwhile, we have doubled up security, having guards positioned at the elevator and the stairs. Also, privilege card members can only access the 10th floor for now.”

“I see,” she nods, “And how come I’ve never seen you here before?”

“I’ve just moved in,” Jackson says, “On the eighth floor where you met my uncle.”

“Oh,” she swallows, ignoring her trembling fingers again.

Jackson fishes a card out of his suit pocket and she flinches slightly, “Here’s my card incase you don’t want to come and see me on the eighth floor. Or if you can’t.”

She nods as she takes the card from his hand, and he leaves without another word, exiting the Enclave.

Veronica fishes out her phone to text Archie as soon as she’s locked her apartment door. She also dashes to her bedroom and checks whether the shutters were closed, before throwing herself on the bed. She texts him with one hand and grabs Ernie with the other, pulling him to her side.

A cold hard plastic hits her forearm, and she shivers. Dropping the phone almost absent-mindedly, she turns Ernie to his back to check the point of contact.

The sight that meets her eyes wasn’t the worse she’s seen, neither was it the best.

A plastic hilt of a kitchen knife that was sunk deep into the cotton bear protrudes from its back like a fallen warrior in the battlefield. It took her a moment before she could move her hands.

Her fingers shaking wildly, she pulls off the knife and a folded note comes out with it. It wasn’t her knife, she definitely never kept one in her house.

Before she knows it, she’s in the bathroom and retching into the toilet with her tears streaming relentless. She retches and retches, emptying the contents of her stomach in the toilet bowl as she shivers of convulsion and fear.

It feels like she has multiple skins that were shivering as she lay on the cold tiled floor of her bathroom, too weak and scared to get up. Her heart was begging to get out of its host as it bangs wildly against her rib cage.

She feels a lingering sensation on her shoulder, like as if a hand would crawl up her skin any second. She feels exposed, like as there could be cameras hidden in the small nooks and cracks of bathroom wall.

The tears have stopped but she feels naked and vulnerable.

And she knows only one person who could give her warmth and cover her

And with the thought in mind and all her willpower, she gets up and walks into her bedroom, purposely ignoring the knife and the note she’s dropped on the floor. She grabs her phone and dials Archie, clearing her throat.

He answers a moment later, “Hey, babe.”

His voice was so bright and familiar it almost cracks her open as she answers with a weak, “Hey.” Wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms and confess everything.

And she should’ve known more than to let the earning in her voice reach him as he says in a different tone altogether, one that was tinged with concern, “Veronica, are you okay?”

She bites down her lips as she forces herself not to spill, swallowing hard as she controls her quivering voice, “Yeah, I’m great, I’m fine, Archie.

“Listen, babe,” she continues as she finds strength in the fact that she’s going to be with him soon, “Can I come over and crash at your place tonight? I’m not feeling so well.”

She hopes lying about her health would help him connect dots to her unwell voice.

“Yeah, of course, Ronnie. You never had to ask,” he says, and he can hear the hesitation in his voice. Not the hesitation of not wanting her to come, but the hesitation to ask her more.

And he doesn’t, which she’s grateful for.

“See you in 20,” she says, about to hang up but he says her name again.

“Yeah?” she asks him.

“Do you want me to come pick you up?” he asks, voice crackling on the line.

“No, it’s okay. Smithers is here,” she says as she presses 4 on the telephone.

He sighs softly, “Yeah, okay. I love you, Ronnie.”

“I love you too, Archiekins,” she whispers, and she doesn’t even know why she’d whisper. She hangs up just as her telephone rings.

“Mrs. Lodge, I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” Smithers says as soon as she answers, “Do you want me to come and get your bags?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” she tells him, remembering that 10th floor was inaccessible for the night.

“I’ll ring when I reach,” he says, and the line cuts.

She gets up and throws her clothes into a sports duffel that she borrowed from Archie. She unplugs her laptop and slides it quick into her computer bag. Once she’s done with her necessities that were now piled in front of the door, she gingerly picks up the knife and the note, and puts them in a transparent plastic bag, sealing it tight. She swallows hard as she slips the bag into her handbag, hiding it in the bottom.

Sighing, she then opens her drawer and fetches a dye, needle, and a scissor. She sits down and starts to work haphazardly on stitching up the cut on Ernie, and she hasn’t done a neat work as her phone rings once more, indicating Smither’s arrival.

She stuffs the bear into another empty Louis Vuitton bag and grabs the rest, making her way out and locking the door. She stares at the card, and feels irony as it promised “absolute security and safety”.

A minute later found her in the back seat of the town car that used to trek the lonely streets of Riverdale, now speeding along Amsterdam Ave to Archie’s apartment.

An acoustic version of a familiar song plays quietly on the radio.

_They head straight for your heart, like a bullet in the dark._

The glowing streetlights passes by her, and just when she thought she could keep up with the pace of everything, life’s sped up in such a rate that’s left her far behind.

It feels like as the car is speeding without her. It feels like she’s still left waiting on the pavement, scared and alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, here’s the second chap in Veronica’s POV. Your support and reviews always make my day, thank you for all those long heartfelt messages last chap!  
> And tell me what you think of this chapter as well!  
> You can find on on tumblr @rickstheraven if you ever want to talk about varchie or anything! I’ll be happy to!  
> Song in the beginning was Streetcars by Daniel Caesar and in the end, Wolves by One Direction!


	3. Chapter 3

_Left you in the sky with the fire below  
Thought I had it right, but I’m still lost in the light_

 

 

Veronica watches him as he paces around the room with a baseball bat gripped tight in his hands. Tight enough to turn his fingers red and purple for her to see, for his veins to visibly pop.

“Why is this happening?” he mutters, eyes wide and frantic.

“Archie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you –” she tries but he cuts her off

“No, Ronnie, it’s okay,” he says, although his jaw was clenched tight.

It was 10 and they were in his living room, having abandoned the bedroom in such a hurry that the door was slammed shut and locked from the outside. She had watched her boyfriend closed all the curtains and check the lock of the main door many times, until he comes and sits in front of her with the begging eyes to understand, and so she had told him everything, right from the beginning till her departure 4 hours ago.

Now he was swinging the bat in his hand as he says, “You have no idea who else could it be? If not that crazed ex-Lodge employee in your apartment?”

“No, Archie, I don’t,” she says tiredly.

“What about the knife and the last note?” he says, raising his hands, “Do you have it?”

“Yeah,” she reaches over and rummages her bag for the package at the bottom. She pulls it out like she was disgusted by it, like as if she was dangling a dead mouse by its tail. And it could be true, because the nauseas wave rises inside her as she hands it shakily to him.

He leans the baseball bat against the sofa as he opens the Ziploc bag, before hesitating and closing it again.

“What?” she asks him.

“We need to show the police,” he says, and she can sense the fear inside him, despite his determined voice.

She suddenly feels cold, “No, Archie, we can’t go outside! Didn’t you see the message?”

“It’s no better, Ronnie!”

“We are going to be fucking exposed in the streets –”

“They can get inside as well, and if they were still here, we’d be dead!”

“Maybe they’re stalling or –”

“Veronica, I’ll be with you –”

“It’s not me, Archie! I don’t want you to get hurt for my sake!” she says, eyes begging him to understand.

He chuckles lightly but stops as she looks at him angrily. He sighs, “You’re the one receiving threats, not me. And it’s you yourself that you should be worried about.”

She remains silent as they have a stare match until she gives up, “Fine, let’s go then. Call an Uber.”

They sit in silence staring at opposite directions as they wait for their ride, which was 7 minutes away. Archie walks into the bedroom and she’s sure he’s taking pictures of the paint job. He comes out later, his eyes still frantic.

“God,” he mutters, shaking his head in the heavy silence of his apartment. She knows how he feels, even if she’s probably feeling the worst of it. His phone rings, indicating the arrival of their driver.

They get up without a word, Veronica grabbing the package and slips it in her purse. Archie considers taking the bat, but then decides his fists will have to do. Or if that’s what she reads from his face and slight shrug of his shoulder.

The walls on either side of the stairs feels like its closing in on her, even with Archie on her side as they made their way downstairs. She breathes in the cool night air as they exit the building, but not for long as Archie ushers her into the Accord waiting for them. A man in a black suit that was standing at the end of the street flashes by her eyes as she got into the car.

She looks back in the backseat but there was no one to be seen. A cat was scrounging for food in the trash pile in an otherwise quiet lonely street.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mrs. Lodge? This way please,” an officer appears around the corner of a corridor and beckons them.

They had been sitting in the rickety mismatching chairs of the waiting area in NYPD’s 6th precinct for the past half an hour, after submitting the evidence to the station. Veronica heads to room 1146 the officer was pointing to, Archie following suit, so close to her that he could’ve been mistaken for a guard dog.

Two detectives were sitting with their elbows on the steel table in the room lit by two bright lamps. A Hispanic man with a tag name that says Ricardo stands up and greets them, while the other detective, a white woman called Whitmore smiles at them from her seat. A clipboard and the evidence in a new bag was in her hands.

“Hello, Mrs. Lodge, Mr. Andrews. Detective Ricardo,” he introduces himself, “And this is Detective Whitmore. Have a seat, please,” Ricardo says in a polite tone.

They take their seats as told, and Ricardo continues, “First of all, we are very sorry that you have to receive such threats. We are here to help, and we are willing to do the utmost.”

He pauses for them to let the words sink, and they nod at the same time. Despite knowing that offering comfort was standard cop protocol, the words sounded genuine to her.

“But to do the utmost, we need as much information as possible,” the officer tells them, “We have quite a bit from the officers already but we need more. So, we’d like you to feel comfortable and tell us everything that’s happened and everything you could speculate.”

She clears her throat but the words clog up, making her choke out incoherent words.

“Would like you some water?” Whitmore asks politely.

“Yes, please,” she agrees croakily as Archie rubs her back consolingly.

Ricardo nods and gets up to the dispenser set on the corner of the room, and comes back later with two full plastic cups of cold water.

Muttering a thank you, she takes a sip and closes her eyes as the chilly liquid sloshes her partly parched throat, invigorating a rush of blood flow through her brain. She sets down her cup and notices Archie’s one was untouched. She looked at him questioningly and he shakes his head to the right in the slightest way he possibly could.

Wondering what on earth might be going on in her boyfriend’s mind, she turns towards the officer with a small smile.

“If you’re ready, please go on,” Ricardo says.

She nods and as she begins to recount the events, she feels strong clammy hands that slides up her wrist and envelopes her fingers in warmth and assurance she so well knows. She sees him smile from the corner of her eyes and swallows something down her throat that feels like courage.

 

* * *

 

“We shall be looking into this matter, Mrs. Lodge, and we shall keep you informed. Best stay at a hotel for now. Or if you’d like, you could wait here in the precinct, we have the coffee room,” Ricardo says once she’s done telling everything and they’re outside the interrogation room. Everything she had thought of, and speculated. How at first thought Josephine had come to mind, and how after learning the absence of Josephine from Oksana, no one _else_ would come to mind.

“Thank you, officer,” she says, and Archie echoes her. Ricardo smiles at them and departs with Whitmore, who was glued to her notes.

“Here or hotel?” Archie turns to her immediately.

“Hotel,” she says, taking out her phone to call an Uber, “The closest one’s Incentra at 8th Ave. Let’s go.”

Her boyfriend nods, and dissolves into the silence as they wait for their driver to come.

She suddenly remembers so she asks him, “Why didn’t you drink the water?”

“What water?”

“The water Ricardo brought to us in the interrogation room.”

He shrugs, but prevails as she glares at him insistently, “Okay, okay, I was just being cautious.”

“Cautious? What for?” she asks him.

Archie continues to shrug, “I don’t know, Ricardo could be like, what? A mole in the precinct and he was probably poisoning our drink.”

Her eyebrows rise higher than Archie’s speculation, “Wait, and you didn’t stop me from drinking?”

“It was far-fetched,” he admits.                                               

“Well, it is,” Veronica nods, laughing slightly, “You watch too much crime series, babe.”

 

* * *

 

“Archie, your phone is ringing!” she calls through gritted teeth.

“Give me a moment!” he answers from the bathroom, the sound of water hitting the tiled floor loud.

His phone goes off again the same time she gasps in pain. Part of her nail had come off as she scraped her finger accidently against the high-tech wardrobe of the hotel that opens by pushing a button, not by sliding as anticipated. As she tried to fix it with a nail cutter, she ended up peeling her skin a bit but the pain was horrible enough for her to gasp.

Abandoning the mess she made on her index finger, she grabs the ringing phone and tilts the screen to see who was calling. It was Jughead, and she slides to answer the call.

“This is Archie from the future,” Jughead says in weird tone she’s hasn’t heard in a long time. She assumes it was him trying to intimidate Archie’s voice, which he was spectacularly failing, “I’m calling to say that I regret my decision in asking Veronica to marry me too soon, and because of that I live in a life of fear, cowering from what maybe the next Gabrielle Solis.”

“Um,” she says, confused.

“Oh, Veronica?” Jughead says in a chirp tone, and clears his throat, “Um, is Archie there?”

“Hey,” Archie walks towards her, one hand reaching for the phone and the other rubbing his hair dry with the hotel towel.

“Oh, I hear him, also forget about what I said, Ronnie, a joke haha -,” Jughead says hurriedly before he was cut off as she passes the phone to Archie, now more confused.

“Hey, bro,” Archie greets his friend the same way as usual and she was left to ponder as he wandered to talk on the balcony.

Marriage? What?

She shakes her head like as if to get rid of the thoughts swirling mundanely in her head, and continues to work on middle finger so that it’d look normal and glamorous incase if she’d decide to flip off someone.

Her boyfriend comes in minutes later, chuckling to himself as he set his phone on the table. She looks up questioningly, which was her way to say, “What did he say?”

“Jughead says Betty cannot come to Riverdale this weekend, but we should still come anyways,” Archie tells her once he’s caught her eyes.

“Oh, we’re going back to Riverdale this weekend?” she asks, surprised.

He nods in reply, “Yeah, I was supposed to tell you. Me and Jug had this conversation yesterday, but what happened after, you know, I lost track?”

“Sounds nice,” she shrugs.

“What, the threats?” he pretends to look shocked.

“No, dork!” she laughs, “Going back to Riverdale, I mean. I miss the place.”

“Yeah, me too,” Archie sets himself next to her on the bed, dragging the mattress over to his side, which she starts to protest but stops immediately as he wraps an arm around her, “We haven’t been there for like, what, almost half a year? What do you miss most, huh?”

She snuggles into his torso’s warmth and snakes her arm around his ribs, “Vegas.”

His laugh vibrates through him, she can feel as she lay her head on his chest, “That’s it?”

“More,” she mutters, breathing deeply, “The peace, the quiet, the pine tree smell, the sunsets, Pop’s. Especially the sunset over Pop’s.”

“We’ll go back this weekend,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Something spreads through her from the point of contact, something calm and peaceful. Something serene and so Archie.

“So, what were you laughing about?” she asks after a while.

“Oh, I told Jug what happened, um, sorry, I did not ask whether –,”

“No, it’s okay, but what was funny?”

“You know, Jughead being him, he made a joke about it,” Archie explains, but his voice was starting to quiver from laughter again, “After running out of ideas about the suspects, he said, and I quote, to be aware of ‘psychotic ex-boyfriends of Veronica that might’ve seen you guys fucking in the corridor of that fancy French restaurant’.”

“Archie, you did not tell him about that!” Veronica exclaims as she jumps out from his arms, her face burning and her lips quivering from how hard she was swallowing her laughter.

“I didn’t mean to, you know, it just came up, I –,” he tries to tell her, but his words caught in his throat as he laughs embarrassingly.

“Jesus, I can’t believe you,” she shakes her head as she tries to swat him.

“Everything I tell Jug, he comes back to bite me with these jokes of his,” he sighs and catches her swinging hand almost lazily and pulls her to him hard so that she almost topples over him but she ends up straddling his laps, giggling loudly. He cups her face and she gives in into the sensation of his lips as they make out slowly, hands roaming around aimlessly. It’s only a minute later she fully understands his words.

“Everything you tell Jug?” she asks him as she pulls away.

“Yeah,” he answers almost sleepily and tries to chase her but she stops him.

“So, you told him about –,”

Archie interrupts her like as if he’s suddenly snapped off a trance, “Oh, of course not. I did not tell him anything about some of your questionable fetishes in bed and –”

“No!” she swats him again, “He made a joke about you asking to marry me too soon.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

It’s like as if someone presses pause on the Milky Way and everything stops as she feels it settling in.

“Archie, did you really think about m-marrying me?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, but his expression schools into something more lined, and she knows it’s his serious face, and no, she just wants an answer. His lips turn into a thin line, and she’s not looking for a proposal now, she’s not ready she’s –

His phone rings through the heavily silenced room like thunder cracking across the sky, and they both jump. Veronica swings off his laps and he gets up to pick up his phone on the table.

A few affirmations her boyfriend says and he hangs up the phone, turning around to look at her with a nervous expression.

“It’s the precinct. They want us down there.”

 

* * *

 

 “Mrs. Lodge!”

They turn around to see an officer striding towards them. He was not Ricardo, but a strongly built man with curly dark hair who towers over them. His face flashes across her mind, but she can’t quite place him.

“Mrs. Lodge, we have looked into the case. And, unfortunately, we have to inform you that however incriminating it may be, we cannot pursue further due to the lack of leads –”

“Wait, what –” Archie starts, but Veronica raises her hand.

“So, Officer –,” she quickly glances at his name tag, “Denzel, you are telling me that you have no leads, despite the fact that I’ve told my speculations and theories? And where is Officer Ricardo anyways?”

“Well, yes,” the man says with confidence in his tone, despite the uncomforted posture, “Officer Ricardo is not in a high position enough to investigate such situation and –,”

“So Ricardo could not investigate further because the case is way out of his capabilities, but doesn’t that mean the case _would_ be much more dangerous and potentially threatening?” she interrupts, anger boiling inside her as she vents on, “And yet, here you are throwing away the case, just not even a day after I’ve told everything I know and –,”

“Madam, please –,”

“Don’t you _madam_ me!” she shouts, making the officer recoil and the precinct’s occupants to turn their heads towards her. She’s aware she’s raised her voice, but she doesn’t care in the slightest. Vicious frustration runs through her bloodstream and it’s all she feels.

“Mrs. Lodge, please. The case does not have enough leads, and as detectives, we know when it becomes cold,” Denzel tries to explain in a soothing tone which only seems to spill fuel on the raging fire, “Also, we –,”

“So what am I supposed to do?” she nearly cries out of desperation, “I have a psychopath out there after my blood, and it’s driving me crazy at how he can get through everything, and –”

 She doesn’t stop because she was interrupted or anything. Something clicks and Archie’s words echoes in her head as she loses track of the real-world conversation.

“…we know it’s frustrating but it’s all we can do,” Denzel continues to ramble.

“Archie, let’s go,” she blurts out, causing both her boyfriend and the detective to frown at her.

“Veronica, what about –”

“C’mon!” she says over Archie’s next words and drags him by his arms, leaving Denzel amidst his meaningless apologies.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks the instant they were outside the building.

She takes a deep breath, “Archie, I think what you said earlier might be true.”

“I thought you said it was far-fetched,” he frowns in reply.

“No, you were the one who believed your own speculation was far-fetched and I just agreed, but what does it matter now?” she shakes her head angrily, “But the police can no longer be trusted, I –”

“But what if it was an actual cold case, I mean,” he ponders, and if he weren’t her boyfriend she might as well swing a fist.

“Damn it, Archie, what kind of detectives stop looking for leads just not even after 2 hours?” she hisses at him venomously.

He raises his hand in defeat, “But do you have an idea who the suspect could be now?”

“Someone with money,” she says, the gears in her brain work frantically, “With that much money that they could bypass the law.”

“Someone from the –”

“Someone from the past, yes,” she completes it for him, “It has to be someone from the days I used to be part of my father’s incriminating dealings, someone who could’ve been affected by the Lodge industries.”

“What about that ex-Lodge woman who lives in your apartment?” Archie asks.

 “Josephine neither has the money or power to do this much, it has to be someone else,” she shakes her head, “God, what have I done in just a span of a month?”

“Veronica, you were manipulated by your father during those times, and it’s not like –”

“No, Archie, you don’t get it!” she interrupts, “My signature was there on the papers, I am responsible if any of those destroyed anyone’s life. My name, Veronica Lodge, it comes with consequences and –”

“No, no, no, no,” his hands come up to rest on her arms as he declines her statement in a way likely to make a Hispanic mother proud of the accent, “Babe, you helped the Serpents during t-that horrible month, you –”

“It’s not about that,” she says, sounding like almost like she’s pleading him to understand, “This last name was accompanied by the consequences all along, and maybe now I’m just receiving the worst of it. Maybe I deserve this, because –”

“Veronica, no,” her boyfriend says firmly, “You do not, and I can totally spend 5 minutes on why you don’t starting with the fact that you have the purest heart I know of, and also –”

As she was about to interrupt him, something catches the corner of her eyes and she looks over his shoulder, feeling her stomach dropping the same time she sees a man wearing a black suit at the corner of the precinct building.

“Archie –”

“No, let me finish, it’s not even 10 seconds yet –”

“No, Archie, there’s a man behind you –”

Just as Archie turns around, the man seems to have realized her awareness and disappears into a pathway presumably between the precinct and an old grocery shop.

“What? Where?” Archie asks, nonplussed.

“I swear he was there, he disappeared into that aisle!” she says, scared from how it almost seems like the man melted into the shadows and despite that, her feet carry her forward.

“Um, Ronnie, isn’t it rule no.1 of living a safe life to not follow a strange man you could possibly be hallucinating?” Archie voices her exact thoughts, but they were still walking to spot all the same.

She turns around cautiously as she reaches the wedge between the buildings, but looks into an empty alleyway, Archie right behind her. There was nothing except for a large bin and few garbage bags speckled here and there, almost like large cockroaches and a single metal door which is probably a side exit for the precinct, with a weak lamp on the rusted metal frame.

“Are you sure of what you saw?” he asks her one more time.

“Yeah, I saw him before, on the way from your apartment –”

“What, and you didn’t bother to say anything?”

“I thought it was probably a trick of the light but now that I see him, it feels familiar, I don’t know…” she trails off, and they both stare into the empty pathway, hands wrapped tightly together despite the warmth of the night.

“Maybe he could’ve gone through that door, I mean –”

“Uh, that’s probably the precinct door?”

“I don’t know, I –” and she doesn’t know how to frame the next words. The fear still lingers somewhere under her skin, but it’s the curiosity that coats her, the yearning to find the mystery behind the man and whether it would be the dot that connects to other dots in her mind, whether this could somehow make sense.

As she takes one step towards her 10m objection, the metal door swings open suddenly and she’s pulled by Archie’s firm grip down to hide behind the large bin.

“Why the fuck are we doing this?” a man says, his voice echoing through the alleyway and the quiet night.

“We do as he says, Charles,” another voice replies, more older and firmer and again, male.

She hears footsteps shuffle away from her position, but the rusted bin obscures her view, as well as the overwhelming smell and her heart beating against her ears makes it hard for her to concentrate on the retreating voice. Her hand tightens around Archie’s and she takes a deep breath as she pulls her blouse over her nose, reveling in the Chanel perfume filling her nostrils.

“The dude is crazy, man,” the first one says, voice slowly diminishing.

“Careful,” man number 2 (as she labels in her head) warns.

The careless man scoffs, “What, he ain’t fucking Batman, is he?”

“You can’t know for sure,” the reply comes monotonously.

“Two fucking bodies in one day, and it’s also two of our own, what does he think? It’ll go unnoticed?”

“He wouldn’t have done it if he couldn’t silence it, plus…”

The words vanish into the night, and they were left fixed, crouching fearfully at what they’ve just heard. Archie makes to stand up, but she shakes her head furiously, eyes wide she can tell.

After a while, the two men comes back, muttering something she can’t quite catch because of the sudden wind blowing through the passage, causing her hair to fly astray and a sandwich wrapper to stick itself on Archie’s face. He rips it off almost angrily just as the metal door slams shut.

His eyes were wide and bright, and she could he was pale despite the darkness. She probably looks the same, and she couldn’t imagine otherwise.

“Let’s go, Ronnie,” he says firmly, and she can hear the slight tremble in his voice.

“Y-You’ve got ketchup on your cheeks,” she points out, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand.

“C’mon,” he pulls her up, and they walk as fast as they can, away from the precinct and hail for a cab at the end of the street.

It might’ve been stupid to point out a ketchup stain during such a time, but it could’ve been easily mistaken for blood.

 

* * *

 

“What are we going to do?” she asks from the bed in their hotel room.

To everyone else, the way he paces on the lavish carpet, people would assume he was concocting an escape plane of some kind, or perhaps an epic strategy to take down an enemy.

In truth, Archie’s head was empty. Except for the words that keep on repeating inside his head.

_Keep her safe_

And it seems like he’s just going to act on that. For now.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says.

“What, where to?”

Silence, and, “Riverdale,” he says.

“Then let’s go. We’ll get a cab,” she says as he takes out his phone to call an Uber, “Let’s just, not use technology a lot for now.”

“Should I break my SIM card as well?” he says, trying to add some light to the situation, but her face remains impassive. He looks down as an apology and lets her throw the toiletries into a makeshift bag. They check out five minutes later and gets into the hotel service taxi (which costs an additional $80).

The ride was silent. Maybe it was the prospect of going back home, where many memories that defined them were made. Or maybe it was the fact of what they’d just overheard.

Truth be told, he was scared. But scared of himself. He wasn’t curious about who was behind it, he wasn’t about to go exploring who the hell was slowly driving his girlfriend in a silent insanity. Because if he’d know who, well.

Bring him a masked person and say that this was the man responsible, he would beat the masked face to almost a point where it wouldn’t make a difference to as whether the accused was wearing one or not. And at the thought, his knuckles itch.

_No,_ he says to himself, tries almost in time to draw the anger back inside.

Call him a coward, but he’s learnt more than enough. He was done being impulsive. He’s had the fair share of running around his hometown terrorizing people with his circles.

But it was hard. He feels it running through his veins, boiling his skin. How dare they threaten the person he loves the most, he wonders with gritted teeth.

At most, anger defines a person, but it always brings the worst of him out. And it took months, and months before he could’ve realized what he’d become. His girlfriend’s cries and his father’s pleading, he was deaf to it all as he let Hiram drag him down a dark path, the hatred at the Black Hood seemingly acting like lubricant on his soles.

Lucky enough, he didn’t have to pay for the consequences. But he still trembles to the thought of what could’ve happened if he let his anger control him again.

And so he decides as the London Plane outside the window starts to slowly change to maple trees, he was just going to protect her. He’ll let her do the investigating, the assumptions, the phone calls. And he’ll be her shield all the way, along every single step she takes.

What’s hard is the impulsion to beat the living daylight out of anyone who ever lays an evil eye on her.

“Babe, are you okay? You’ve been silent.”

He turns around, “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

It was dark inside the cab, but her eyes were bright orbs like a lighthouse in the middle of a sea storm. He could make out her pale face from the orange streetlight.

“The last time you were this silent after something like this had happened, was, well after the Black Hood incident,” she says, and he chuckles.

“You read me,” he sighs.

“Promise me Arch, let me deal with this,” she says immediately, hands coming to rest on his palm, “Please?”

They hit a speed bumper, causing the car to rock slightly but their eye contact doesn’t break.

“Fine,” he says, “I already made a promise to myself anyways.”

“Thank you,” she smiles slightly, and it spreads something inside him. Like a breeze in the sea, the way his blood flow suddenly changes, “I know you want to be my hero, but you’re –”

“Harvey Dent?” he suggests.

“No, no, you’re not two faced,” she recoils, laughing.

He laughs with her as well, but it was more of a despairing one, “No, but my dad once told me that it’s easy for a nice person to become a bad one, if they lose the one person that –”

“You’re not going to lose me, Archie,” she says firmly.

He shakes his head, even if her words raise some assurance inside him (her voice always does that), “But what if I do? I-I can’t do –”

“No, Archie, you’re not going to lose me, and you know why? Because I’m here, in your heart, forever and always,” she says, pressing a finger on his chest, “And you’re like my knight in shining armor, guardian angel and your presence is enough for me to feel like I can take on the world.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, and pulls her close. She snuggles into his neck and he buries his nose into her hair, breathing in deeply

The car slows down to a red light, and Archie realizes their location. They were very close to entering the Northside, and about 20 m ahead would Pop’s.

“Where to in Riverdale, sir?” the driver says from the front.

“Elm street, please,” she replies before he could. He chuckles, “Vegas, huh?”

“I do miss him,” she shrugs, but looks out the window as a motorcycle stops next to them. He could see her eyes widen in the dim light and his stomach drops as she opens her mouth.

“Jughead?” she says.

His sigh goes unnoticed as he turns around and indeed, it was Jughead astride his Ducati, typing away on his phone.

Archie rolls down the window quickly, “Jug!”

His friend turns around, long fringes following the movement as his eyes widen with surprise and recognition, “Arch! V! You’re here early.”

“Yeah, well, an emergency,” Archie says, eyes trying to tell him that _we can’t talk about this here_.

Thankfully, Jug does as he says, “Want to grab a bite at Pop’s?”

“Sure,” he says and turns around to the driver, “Could you stop at the diner in front, over there with the neon signs?”

 

* * *

 

“That’s fucked up,” were Jug’s first words in a long time (after he said thanks to Pop’s for 3 combo burgers)

“Yeah,” Veronica sighs, “I have next to nothing on who it could be.”

“There is flaw,” Jug says, a ketchup covered fry points at them accusingly.

“What?” Archie asks, feeling perplexed.

“As far as I’ve heard, you’ve only thought possible Veronica’s enemies, which if they do exist, would either be somewhere in college like you guys, and like you guys, would be dying under the workload,” he says enthusiastically.

“So you’re saying –”

“Yes, have you ever thought that they could be your father’s enemies? After all, Hiram is a fucking asshole,” Jughead nods and adds, “No offense, V.”

“None taken,” she shrugs, but her face clearly says she was already lost somewhere in her thought.

“But why Hiram’s enemies would target Veronica, I mean, just because of the papers her name was in or what?” Archie asks, still perplexed as ever.

“No, these mobsters know that words on paper mean nothing, much more dismay to words on wind,” Jughead explains as he slurps his milkshake, while Veronica remains deep in thought (Archie doesn’t know how because the slurping sound is quite distracting), “It’s the actions that gets on their nerves and the only one time when Veronica was directly involved in was –”

“When Kowalski was threatening my dad!” Veronica says suddenly, startling Jughead into spilling the rest of his milkshake onto his burger.

“My burger!” Jughead laments, poking the soggy bun like as if he was checking for a reaction, “But yeah, it’s possible.”

“Why would Kowalski target Ronnie, though? I mean, her interference saved his ass from being exposed, no?” Archie says, and Veronica nods slightly.

“The same way you could ask him why does he deal drugs.”

“Um, for money?”

“Maybe he enjoys torturing people? Passion?” Jughead says, throwing words into the air but stops to groan as he picks up his burger but the bun breaks apart.

“I’m sure there’s much more than that, Jug,” Veronica says.

“Maybe. Maybe there’s a purpose, maybe there’s a goal,” the raven haired says, “But it’s a maybe, we need more clues.”

“So –”

“Yeah, I’m in, you’re going to need all the help you can get,” he says.

Archie turns around to find Veronica smirking, and turns around as Jughead raises his hand to make a point.

“I never knew, but cheeseburger dipped into strawberry milkshake is amazingly good,” he says in a matter of fact tone.

Veronica groans and rests her head on the booth’s window as Archie mutters, “Disgusting.”

“As disgusting as it may be, you’re stuck with it for the next few days as we figure why the hell is a drug lord after your girlfriend,” Jughead winks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, it's been what, exactly 30 days since I last updated lol. Yes, university has been getting the best of me and it looks like I'm not going to live up to the promise of weekly updates. So I guess I'll update whenever I can, just be on the look out!  
> And as always, thank you for popping by in tumblr (some of ya curious anons) and some support I've received in the discord! Comments are always appreciated, and they, always, always, always, boost a writer's morale (even if you leave an incoherent rambling)  
> find me on the tumblr @rickstheraven  
> song in the beginning is Reforget by Lauv   
> see y'all soon


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